


A living Death

by Mockingbird_Blue



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:52:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9366818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mockingbird_Blue/pseuds/Mockingbird_Blue
Summary: Something's happened to Phil. Something Dan won't talk about.Dan is staying by his comatose best friend's side in a tsunami of emotions





	1. Loving You is Suicide

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this whilst listening to the song "Suicide" by Cathy Dennis. So check that out if you wanna listen to something whilst reading.
> 
> Lmao have fun with all this sadness and angst

It’s been a while since I went outside. Not just out of my room or kitchen like it’s always been. These days I don’t leave the hospital for a whole lot. What if he wakes up? I need to be the first face he sees. I’m definitely not the first face he would want or need to see when he opens his eyes, but I’ve always been a selfish person who does selfish things, and I would be there anyway. 

It’s been about 6 days, 12 hours, and 47 seconds (approximately) since I first came to see him, and longer since I showered or ate a whole meal. The nurses have become accustomed to my being here, and haven’t tried again to get me to leave once visiting hours are over.

 

Phil’s mum comes in rather frequently, but no longer tries to start conversation with me, and just chats at me for a while. Speaking of which, she should be here soon if my perception of time is somewhat correct. She comes in every day at around dinner, bringing food, clothes, and a reminder that the world is still going on as normal whilst my best friend is suffering.

 

“Hello, Daniel,” my thoughts come to a halt as a familiar voice brings me back to reality. “I’ve brought you some steamed vegetables.” Oh. Phil’s mum walks into sight, and I feel sick. If she knew why Phil was really here, whose fault it is that he’s in the position he’s in, would she still be so kind? If I were able to feel anything other than sick or guilty, I’d possibly feel bad for being unable to converse with her anymore. But I’ve been numb for a long time. Phil’s mum assumes her position on the other side of the hospital bed, directly opposite me but seemingly so far away.

 

“I was talking to the doctor, and she said if he wakes up, he shouldn’t have any amnesia. I suppose it was wishful thinking that perhaps he would forget about the food he doesn’t like, it would make Christmas dinners a lot easier, wouldn’t it?” she chuckles.

 

_If_ he wakes up.

 

What if he doesn’t wake up?

 

What if he _doesn’t wake up_?

 

“His father and I were talking about what he’ll say when he opens his eyes,” she crosses her leg over the other “I recon he’ll probably just ask when dinner is going to be ready, the dill. His father thinks he’ll probably make a video about it all, though. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

 

My stomach sinks into itself, and I rest my head on my crosses arms, still holding Phil’s hand. I hope that when he does wake up, he doesn’t remember what happened, or if he does, that he still loves me anyway.

 

“Did you know that comatose people can still hear what’s going on around them?” she says after a long silence that was all too evident to be comfortable. “Why don’t you try chatting with him? He’d probably like it a lot.” I lift my head and meet her nervous smile.

 

“I don’t think he’d want to hear my voice.” I say, looking away shyly. I’d never tell anyone – not even his mother – that I had been talking to him and hoping in vain that he’d wake up consequent to the sound of my voice.

 

Why must I be so vain?


	2. There's a Corpse In This Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck. 
> 
> Just some good-ol' angst here!  
> Call me the angst king.
> 
> **ALSO** I was listening to "Early Sunsets Over Monroeville" by My Chemical Romance whilst writing this, if y'all want something to listen to whilst you read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hurt to write, I apologise.

I feel so angry. Angry and yet so _pleased._

 

He pulls at my arm once more and looks at me with wet eyes.

 

“Dan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”

 

More apologies.

 

Phil’s dampened black locks stick to his forehead in clumps. His eyes peek out from beneath the mess, and look at me as if pleading to take their shaking host into my arms. But I can’t do that. Not now.

 

“Dan, say something,” Phil begs, voice cracking through a half-sob. But what can I say? He’s made everything so difficult, and I need to get away before my wayward emotions do something I’ll regret. “Please?”

 

“Phil, let me go.” I say in a low voice, holding seriousness but not physically pulling away just yet. “You’re making things problematic, and I can’t deal with it right now. Not in the way I should.” The man in front of me loosens his grip, eyes growing wetter still like he’d been hit in his weakest point.

 

“Please,” he wobbles “don’t hate me.”

 

I don’t hate him.

 

I just don’t love him.

 

I can’t.

 

The sleet collects on my cheeks and hair, and the rushing holiday traffic blares just 5 metres away. I turn to walk away from the crumbling relationship and head for my friend Louise’s house in the hopes that she of all people could clear my mind, but from behind me I hear the frustrated voice who, just a few minutes ago, gave me his heart.

 

“Dan, I really did mean everything I said. No matter what happens, I’m not going to take that back. I really do love you.” How can words you’ve wanted for years hurt so much? I turn around to face him once last time.

 

“Don’t, Phil. Please don’t love me like this.” And at last I turn and leave.

 

I decide to call Louise; she’s grown accustomed to dealing with my word vomit, and with her I can feel minimal remorse for burdening her with my troubles. I tap on her name in my contacts and bring the phone to my ear, waiting impatiently and walking with full speed.

 

“Hey, Dan!” Louise’s voice rings from the other end.

 

“Loui, I need someone to talk to. Are you at home?”

 

 

“Dan? What’s happened? Are you alright?”

 

“Are you at your house?” I say, regrettably raising my voice.

 

“Yes, I’m at home. Dan, what’s going on? You’re scaring me…”

 

“It’s Phil.”

 

At that moment, an excruciatingly loud sound rings from behind me. I swing around to investigate, and find the source of the sound. Two cars have collided and slid across the road, and onto the pavement where Phil and I had just been. I feel a sudden ache in my stomach. Where’s Phil?

 

“I have to go” I basically scream into my mobile, lowering it from my ear and sprinting my way over to the crash. Please tell me Phil in in the apartment and about to come down to see what the noise was. I whip out my phone again, and desperately find Phil’s name in the contacts.

I hear Phil’s ringtone; it’s muffled. I look around, but see no sign of him. It rings for a long time, and the incoming crowd of people start to drown everything out. The sudden realisation of where the noise is coming from makes me feel dizzy, like the world has just been ripped from under my feet.

 

_Oh._

 

_Oh no._

 

_Phil._

 

“Phil!”

 

I’m jolted awake in a whirlwind of cold sweats and hyperventilation. My mind adjusts to the reality materialising itself around me, and I see I’m being held upright by a face I need to see. Not necessarily the exact face I wanted to see, but one I need nevertheless. I look over to the corpse-like face that I’d seen in my dreams, but not feeling the relief I want.

All of the emotions known to man wash over me, and I burst into tears in Louise’s arms.

 

 

“Let’s talk about it, darling.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I JUST WANT DAN TO BE HAPPY  
> I SWEAR HE WILL BE  
> THERE'S JUST GONNA BE SOME REALLY PAINFUL MONOLOGUES BEFOREHAND
> 
> Tell me what you thought?


	3. I Lost My Beloved Without Deserving It Over A Bouquet That I Refused To Give Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess it's about time we see what happened to Phil, eh? I mean, before the other stuff  
> More Louise, more Phil, more sadness and crying and angst.  
> ............ yay.......
> 
> **ALSO** I was listening to 'A La Claire Fontaine' the Painted Veil version whilst writing this one, so you can have a listen if you'd like.

Louise fiddles with the hair on the back of my head absent-mindedly as I lie my head on Phil’s bed, tears having stained my cheeks.

 

“You haven’t shaved in a while. You’re starting to look like a brunet Santa Clause.” She jokes, still with her fingers in my hair.

 

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” I reply, still looking at Phil’s sleeping face. Louise chuckles breathily.

 

“Not really. You’re starting to look like mountain man. You know, the guy that lives in the mountains whom everyone thinks is a bear, so they run away terrified.” She pokes my back, and a smile crosses my features. I lift my head and look at her instead.

 

“Okay, fine, I’ll shave. Geez.” Her face lights up, but then sinks to a softer, sadder smile.

 

“Where’s your head right now? What do you need?”

 

“I don’t know,” I sigh, looking away from her eyes “I don’t know what I’m meant to feel right now, or what I’m meant to say, _or_ what I’m meant to do.”

 

“I don’t think you’re meant to know how to be when your best friend gets into this situation,” she sighs, placing her hands on my cheeks “But how about you start with telling me what you were going to tell me when you came over? You said it was about Phil, and I know it wasn’t about the crash because I heard that when we were talking.”

 

My heart stops for a second.

 

_Oh._

 

_That._

 

_The thing that I haven’t really stopped to think through clearly ever since I fell into the pool of self-loathing._

 

_The thing that started this all._

 

I feel myself going weak in the stomach, and my eyes swelling up with a dreadful heat. Louise pulls me into her arms and shushes my quiet sobbing.

 

_No. Enough of this. Man up and deal with your emotions, Daniel._

 

“We were sitting on the couch after dinner and he told me he needed to talk about something important, so I put my laptop onto the coffee table and turned to him.” I pull out of Louise’s arms and wipe my eyes. “He stood up and started pacing the room, so I assumed he was angry and needed to vent or something.”

 

I stand up and mimic the words I’m saying; pacing the room myself.

 

“He kept looking at me through tiny glances, and it was really confusing. But then he just stopped in the middle of the room, looking at the wall, and said

‘I can’t take it anymore. I know I’m meant to keep quiet; I don’t usually give my opinion on major things unless I’m asked, I can’t stand up to people like you can, and I don’t tell people when I’m angry or sad, or such a strong emotion as this. I don’t deserve to, but I’ve always been a selfish person who does selfish things, Dan. Bloody hell, Dan, I love you so much. I don’t mean I love you as a brother, or as a best friend. I love you, as in I can’t function when you’re not there, and can’t breathe when you are, I want you to be happy, but I don’t think that I could ween myself off of you if that meant you needed someone else.’

And I didn’t know what to do. I sat and looked on in horror.” I stop in the middle of the room, and look at Louise, pleading with her to fix everything, even if I know she can’t.

 

“Dan–“

 

“Why can I remember everything word-for-word? This isn’t some story, Louise; I can’t just hold backspace, and have everything back to normal.” Part of me pleads with the writer of this story to do just that, but I know fate wouldn’t even think of it. Fate just wants to see us suffer.

 

“It’s embedded in your mind, because it affected you so much. Bloody hell, Dan, you love that poor boy, and he gave you his heart.” Louise stands, crossing her arms.

 

“Why did I run away then?! I’ve wanted him to feel like that for _seven years._ Why did I grab my coat and walk out the door, and not hug that fucking bastard? Maybe then he wouldn’t be in that bed, Louise.” By now, I’m keeled over and shaking. I slide down the wall and curl into my knees.

 

“Dan…” Louise walks over to me quietly and sits down at my side.

 

“He’s there in that bed, and I can’t do anything. I can’t help him.” My voice wavers and crackles as I look at the dried blood staining my best friend’s deathly pale face. I used to love the idea of crimson on white, but now it makes me sick.

 

“Dan, listen to me,” Louise pulls my chin so our eyes meet “he is still alive, and he will wake up to give you the whack over the head that you deserve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you'd like Phil's POV, because that's something I can do.  
> If not, the next chapter will most likely be the last for this story!
> 
> I also have a Tumblr if you wanted to contact me:  
> tumblr.com/mockingbird-blue

**Author's Note:**

> I'd appreciate any comments, including constructive criticism!  
> Tell me about stuff.


End file.
